What If It Were Different?
by I Have a Benediction
Summary: What if they had been right about Sherlock? What if he was exactly what they said he was? What would John do? How would they move on from it? Pre-Reichenbach, set right after the Blind Baker No slash, Serial Killer Sherlock, killer!lock AU. May contain: gore, violence and bad language.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, this is a new fic I'm writing. It's killer!Lock. So yes, warning gore.  
I don't know if I will continue this so if you like it tell me if I should continue.**

**Enjoy.~**

* * *

Sherlock looked down at the body on the floor. _'A man in his 30's, a widower, father of two, accountant, seeing a woman for 2-no 3 weeks, and the most obvious, dead.'_ Sherlock began his usual inspection of the body, checking for all the little details he knew the yard would miss. _'Idiots'. _Sherlock knew exactly what had happened to this man, but chose to take time because he found the utterings of, "He knows that because he is the murderer "and the likes to be incredibly annoying. He knew every single detail about what had happened, and not for the right reasons.

The murder itself was very simple. The man had four stab wounds that seemed to be the cause of the fatality but to a trained eye it was clear it was not. The stabs were very serious and given enough time he would have died of blood loss however he did not. The real cause of death was poisoning. The killer was not sloppy, leaving no evidence at all. Sherlock didn't have to look around because he knew the yard hadn't been able to find even a speck of physical evidence to catch the killer and also knew it was because the killer did not leave any.

All of this he knew within seconds, but chose to take five minutes for the sake of the performance.

Lestrade and John shot him an inquisitive look. Lestrade had asked him to look at the scene and case because there was no physical evidence left on the body or crime scene, which was usually a good indication that the killer wasn't stupid. Smart killers were always something Sherlock screamed for, so Lestrade obliged.

Sherlock sighed and stared at them.

Lestrade began, "We know this man's named Harrison Rogers. We know he died of bloo-"

"Wrong." Sherlock cut him off.

"What do you mean wrong?" Lestrade questioned, confused.

"I mean not correct, he died of poisoning, obvious."

Lestrade just sighed in exasperation and waved his hand to continue.

"What else have you got then?"

"In his mid-thirties, widower, just started seeing someone about 3 weeks ago, has two children, accountant. He is a completely normal man, how dull and obvious."

"Yes, right, obvious of course." John muttered under his breath, he was still amazed at Sherlock's talent but sometimes he just wanted to choke the git and yell at him that _no, it was not obvious._

Sherlock continued, "He died of poisoning which you can tell if you just look at him. Right Dr. Watson?"

John hmmed in agreement, having noticed this detail as well.

"The stab wounds were enough to kill him but he was poisoned before he lost too much blood, obvious. I mean, look at the puddle blood, or rather lack thereof."

Lestrade nodded, irritated with himself for not noticing it earlier, it all became obvious once Sherlock pointed it out.

"Lastly, no you want find any evidence simply because the killer left none."

Lestrade shot him a worried look, if Sherlock said he would find no evidence he knew it would be true.

"Then do you know who did it?"

"No. Usually I would say his brother, or new lover but he was not killed by anyone he knew. It was random. The killer did not know him at all. He was not targeted for it either, just merely chosen and killed for the killer's …pleasure."

"How do you know a relative or friend didn't do it?"

"The stabs, they aren't angry or passionate or even slightly emotional in any way. The cuts are precise and accurate and borderline surgical. Statistically when someone kills their loved ones it's for emotional reasons."

"Well, if that's all you have then I'll be letting my guys look at the place now. Contact me if you figure anything out, and I will too."

* * *

Sherlock nodded before strutting off, John not too far behind. Sherlock hailed a cab without saying a word and John followed. Throughout the cab ride John began thinking. Sherlock acted different in this case. He had seen it before, on a few other cases that weren't that important or hard. He seemed to have a lack of the curiosity he usually is fueled with. It seemed almost as if he already knew what had happened. Every time it happened John merely brushed it off thinking it to be just another 'mood' Sherlock gets. This time was different however, John felt like whatever it was, and he needed to know it.

The car ride was silent, John was thinking of ways to broach the subject and Sherlock was thinking about the crime scene.

When they arrived back at 221B it took John all but maybe 3 minutes before he felt the need to question.

"Sherlock?"

"Hhmm."

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"Oh for the love of-… Okay today… what… no…are you ok?"

"I'm fine."

"I mean, you were acting weird today."

"How is that?"

"You seemed… like as if you already knew what had happened."

"I didn't know I-"

"Yeah, yeah you noticed. I get that. I mean, you just seemed like you just knew before we even went there. You weren't curious or questioning like usual…"

"Predictable case." Sherlock was staring out the window, and good thing too, had he been facing John things would have been bad. He was grinning. '_John is catching on'_

"Right ok, but it isn't the first time you have done this."

"John, get to the point."

John opened his mouth and no words came, he closed and opened it again thinking what to say to that. He was stumped, what was his point? He didn't really have a motive in it he just wanted to know why Sherlock was so off… Was there supposed to be a point? Of course there was, this was Sherlock after all.

"I don't have a point… I just wanted to know why."

"John, don't waste my time. If there was no bloody point why bring it up!" His voice raised a little. He was disappointed. John was not catching on. He was getting desperate.

John thought for a second about what Sherlock said. He was getting angry with John, _weird…_ He also said "it" which blatantly implies that there was something wrong.

* * *

_"That's the frailty of genius John, it needs an audience." _

Sherlock thought back to the crime scene, _his crime scene.  
_  
Sherlock Holmes was the killer.

He was exactly what Sally Donovan had said, a murderer. She was right, except for one thing, he didn't get off on murder. He didn't get some psychotic sexual release at the sight of blood on his hands. No, Sherlock was a very different breed of monster. He 'got off' on the game of it all. The game was all there ever was. He felt a rush of adrenaline every time he tricked the police and framed yet another person for a crime he committed. For a while this was enough for him, then one day he got bored. He got so very bored sometimes. He killed his first person when he was 19. What a rush it was. But, things had begun to be getting dull. They never caught nor even suspected him, aside from Sally. He was getting desperate for someone to notice what he had been getting away with. He felt like the Cabbie driver from the case a few months back.

That's why when John asked him he was happy. But, turns out John is just as much as an idiot as them. He didn't notice. It was killing Sherlock. He wanted to practically scream it at John. "I DID IT. I KILLED HIM!"

He didn't however. Instead he picked up the violin that was resting on his chair and began playing, or rather mutilating the instrument with his emotions. John just sighed. John was curious and suspicious as to what exactly Sherlock had meant, what had been going on, why did he act that way but he knew he wouldn't be able to figure it out just yet so he chose to wait it out. Few more cases and it will happen again and John could confront him again. John decided to begin watching Sherlock more carefully. He decided right now was not a good time to start however seeing as how he was hungry. He turned around and went to the kitchen.  
_  
_

* * *

_'Sherlock Holmes. The Game is On.'_


	2. Chapter 2

**So I decided that I would make this multi chaptered, which I am very sure I will regret soon but oh well. I am doing it anyways! I hope you enjoy… Review, favorite and follow, all of it makes me really happy.  
Enjoy! ~**

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_'It happened again today. That same flash of … recognition? Whatever the look meant, it was plastered on Sherlock's face, but only briefly.' _John had seen it two times before that within the last month but was too busy with his job to push Sherlock. John had theorized. The only theories he had that made even made the littlest bit of sense were still farfetched.

1.) Sherlock knew about these before they happened because they were tied to something bigger, like that Moriarty guy the cabbie mentioned.

2.) Sherlock saw them happen but couldn't do anything about them at the time.

3.) Sherlock was the killer.

The last one was John's least favorite and the one he believed the least. He couldn't dismiss it though because it was a logical conclusion. John knew what Sally said about Sherlock being a psychopath was untrue but did John really know him well enough to say that? After all it wasn't as though Sherlock would tell him on his own. If Lestrade hadn't done the drugs bust John would never have known that Sherlock was a drug addict in his younger years. What made this any different? '_Stop…Sherlock wouldn't actually kill anyone.'  
_  
John thought back to the crime scene earlier that day.

* * *

_'Sherlock received a text saying there was a murder. He jumped up and rubbed his hands together. "John, we have a case. It's a 5. We might as well get going!"  
He sent another text asking for the address. Upon receiving it he seemed disappointed but quickly got rid of any emotion as he slipped down the stairs and out the flat, hailing a cab, me following behind.  
Sherlock strutted onto the scene with his usual swagger and confidence. He didn't bother to ask what happened before coming. The scene was in an old building that used to be a library, inside was a human torso in the center of an empty room with limbs at different sides of the room. It looked like a human compass. I looked at Sherlock prepared to say "bit not good" as he grinned but instead there was that look in his eyes… the look of recognition. He seemed bored of it, I swallowed in hard and tried to ignore it. Sherlock bent down and began examining the torso or rather he stared it and did little else. After a few minutes of Sherlock wandering around and basically glaring at the limbs Lestrade came in and gave him an inquisitive look. Sherlock looked up at him and began his usual string of deductions._

_"The body is separated into pieces which closely resemble a compass. The left leg is covered in blood but the other limbs were scrubbed clean, which obviously indicates that he wanted the compass to be pointing to the east. As far as the body goes you will not being finding a head, and so it will remain a John Doe but keep an eye out for missing people reports in the near future and look at all recent ones for a male in his 30's, Mexican, and lives in a lower Middle class neighborhood. As far as the killer goes, I have 3 no… 2 theories, both highly unlikely. The killer was clever and will probably never kill with this method again." Sherlock stopped, clearly done and began catching his breath. He seemed almost as if he knew trying to find the killer was pointless and just… accepted it. There seemed to be so much knowledge in his eyes…He didn't stop in the middle of his rattle shouting "Oh!" and claiming something no one could see a connection to. He instead began leaving. 'What if he…No. He wouldn't do that… would he?'_

_Lestrade looked at me funnily and shot me a silent, "Is he Ok?" kind of look. I just tilted my head as if to tell him I wasn't entirely sure. I got up and began following him out.'_

* * *

John broke from his flashback and was brought back to reality. He had not gotten any closer to an answer, but did however have rising suspicions. John looked around the flat wondering just how long he had been distracted and if Sherlock was still present. "Sherlock!" John called up the stairs. After a few moments he received a muffled shout in response. He breathed out relieved that Sherlock was still there so he could begin the conversation. He sat back down on his chair and waited until he heard steps descending down the stairs. The tall curly haired man walked into the room and sat down in his chair parallel to John's.

"What did you bother me for?"

"It wasn't like you were doing anything important."

Sherlock scoffed.

"You have questions."

"Yes."

"Well then ask them already!"

John chuckled a bit at this, Sherlock was still a child. Impatient as ever. He needed to hold onto the good just in case the absolute worst was true, because he would get his answers. This conversation would be it. No matter how long it took, Sherlock would tell him what exactly was going on.

* * *

**I apologize that this chapter is short, I promise the next one will be significantly longer and hopefully a lot of plot will transpire. Til then! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, how goes it? Welcome back to What If it Were Different! Third chapter, hopefully of more to  
come. It is quite an interesting premise this fiction… I love writing it quite frankly. I hope you guys like it too, so favorite, follow and review!**

* * *

_"You have questions."_

"_Yes."_

"_Well then ask them already!"_

* * *

"Okay Okay! It's just…you were doing it again today… acting different…"

"John get to the point." Sherlock snapped as he looked out the window, his back to John.

"Well, it's just… when you were on the crime scene earlier you didn't act like yourself."

"John, that's-"

"Don't interrupt. You were acting like you already knew everything about the murder." John stopped knowing that Sherlock was wearing a look without seeing it. He shook his head, "Different from usual. Like you knew about it all before we even got there. Like you saw it happen…"

Sherlock smiled involuntarily and was very grateful that John couldn't see it.

"What are you implying John?"

"Did you…? Did you see it happen?"

Sherlock remained silent, still smiling, '_Go on John. Think.'_

"How is this relevant John?"

"How is-." John rubbed his temple before continuing, "You're avoiding my question, Sherlock…"

Sherlock's smile grew at the sound of suspicion now growing in John's voice, and remained silent.

"Did you?" John's voice sounded more clipped and serious as he repeated the question. It was clear to Sherlock that he should respond now before John stormed out.

"Perhaps."

"What happened?" John asked trying to hide the clear worry and anxiety that also nestled into his voice. He reached out and touched Sherlock's shoulder but let his grip drop immediately after feeling how tense Sherlock became.

"Sherlock… tell me…I'm your friend…"

"I saw the man get murdered John." Sherlock turned away from the window and sat down on his chair. '_You're asking the wrong questions again John.'_

"Right. Okay, who did it?"

"That's irrelevant."

"No, it's not at all." John squinted his eyes at Sherlock, trying to deduce him the same way he does to John with little success. _'Sherlock would never say that…' _John thought back to the crime scene and remembers that Sherlock also said that the killer left no physical evidence and he doubts they'll be able to figure it out… None of it added up to him.

"Did _you_… Did you kill him?" John asked warily, asking only out of necessity, not out of curiosity. Silence was all that John received, making his stomach lurch. _'Why isn't Sherlock answering? Usually he would have said, "Don't be dull John." Or a variation of that…' _This was just silence.

"Sherlock… did you do it?"

"What if I had?"

"Jeeesuuuuss." John grabbed his stomach, he felt like he was going to puke. _'Sherlock is the killer… Sherlock… killed… No… god no…'_

"Was it in self-defense?"

Sherlock was surprised at John's question as he began stuttering out, "I wa-"

"Was it in self-defense?" John repeated, showing that he didn't want excuses, just a 'yes' or a 'no'.

"No." John swallowed hard at hearing this, _'its real…Sherlock killed someone on purpose… he…' _Then suddenly a realization hit him. _'All those times… he… Sherlock… more than once…'_

"All those times you-"

"Yes John." Sherlock looked at John in the eyes finally, he had a childish grin on his face.

"You are a-"

"Serial Killer, yes, and a very bored one at that. The yard is so clueless!" Sherlock threw his arms up exasperated, then put his elbows on his knees as he ruffled his hair.

* * *

"Oh… god no… you-" John ran out of 221 B. Sherlock, now alone sighed, "Bit not good, huh?" Sherlock sat up and crossed his legs, waiting for John to come back to Baker St.

'_Interesting…'_

* * *

**Sorry it's so short, it will be longer next time I swear! Thanks for reading. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, Chapter Four of What If It Were Different.  
Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows it means a lot. (:  
Enjoy!~**

* * *

_"Oh… god no… you-" John ran out of 221 B. Sherlock, now alone sighed, "Bit not good, huh?" Sherlock sat up and crossed his legs, waiting for John to come back to Baker St._

* * *

Sherlock sighed, that was nearly three hours ago and it was now 9:00 P.M. He was sure John would have come back by now. _'Maybe he turned you in. No… John wouldn't do that. Would he…? Of course not. John is my blogger. He knows I need him.' _Sherlock kept mentally debating himself until suddenly the flat door swung open. An angry and slightly drunk John Watson walked through and looked at Sherlock with a stern look.

"You are going to explain yourself and then I will decide whether or not I should just turn you in."

"John-"

"No. No arguments. We are doing this my way. Now start talking."

"John, you are drunk, at least let me make you some tea so you can sober up."

John opened his mouth to argue but found that what Sherlock said made sense and allowed it. Sherlock hated drunk people anyways, they were always inclined to sexual acts and anger. It seemed John's was anger tonight. Sherlock got up and went into the kitchen and put a kettle on. After 5 minutes he came back out with two cups and handed one to John.

"Then, where would you like me to begin."

John who was distracted with his shirt looked up surprised that Sherlock was speaking then remembered and reorganized himself. "Hmm, tell me why first. Why Sherlock?"

"Why? Well, because I was bored."

"Sherlock! That's not a reason to kill people! I get bored too!"

"John. You don't understand how dangerous it is for me to be bored. I need constant stimulation. There weren't any cases… and…well I couldn't do what I usually do between cases… I made a promise so… I experimented."

John immediately sobered up after hearing this and swallowed hard. _'What did he usually do?'_

"How long?"

"It started when I was 19. That time wasn't when I was doing cases. I was high then."

"Jessuss."

"But, the first time I did it because I was bored without cases was about 3 years ago. I hadn't had a case in two months and Lestrade told me if he found me high one more time he would stop consulting me so I decided to try out what Sally always said I would do. It wasn't some weird psychotic thing for me. I don't like the act of killing John. It's the game. Always the game."

"Sherlock… why shouldn't I just turn you in now?"

"Because, you're okay with it. You trust me. I saved you. Need more reasons?"

"You think I am okay with this? This is murder and wrong!"

"Yes, I do think that."

"W-why would you?"

"Because, if you were as against the concept as much as you claim to be you wouldn't have said 'then I will decide whether to turn you in or not' and you would have already turned me in by now."

"You-"

"John, you trust me, and you know that even if you were to turn me in there would be no way to pin those murders against me so why keep fighting yourself when you can make It easier for both of us and just accept it already."

"You're impossible… you…" John got up, rage boiling inside him and punched a wall.

Sherlock was momentarily confused before realizing that John might feel betrayed that Sherlock was exactly what Sally said he was.

"Listen, John I'm sorry if you feel betrayed."

"Oh, you said sorry? That must make everything bloody better!" John shouted before punching the wall for a second time.

"John… Calm down. Listen, just tell me how to make this better and I will do it. Okay? I don't want to lose my blogger. Granted a blogger of idiotic and romanticized things."

"Make things better? Sherlock what could make this better. You are a murderer!"

"So is every soldier."

"That's different."

"No, it's not, murder is murder. Just because you have permission to do so doesn't make it any more right. You love danger, John, this is just as fun for you as it is me."

"Fun." John laughed with bitter sarcasm.

Sherlock sighed and looked out the window.

John sighed as well. '_God, there must be something seriously wrong with me if I am okay with this.'_

"Listen, Sherlock. I am your friend. I do trust you and you're right, you did save me. I know you have always been alone and I want to be here for you. So you want to know how you can fix this? You can't do it anymore. If you get bored you talk to me."

"John, you know that will only work for a while and then I will be bored again. I was hoping…"

"What? That I would kill people with you?"

"Well…"

_'Is he bloody serious?' _John was on edge. He was very conflicted. On one side he was very against this all but on the other he wanted to. He wanted the adrenaline and danger that came with Sherlock's risky game. It's what pulled him in when he first met him.

"Sherlock. I won't say no. But I am most certainly not saying yes. Okay? I am going to sleep I am bloody tired."

_'That most certainly wasn't a no either…'_

* * *

_**Next chapter is going to be during the Great Game. SO head's up. **_


	5. Chapter 5

**Welcome back. This chapter is very based on the beginning of The Great Game as will the next chapter so let's just see how this all pans out. Also note, the explosion did happen I just found that it was tedious to write and therefore just kind of hope you guys will understand that it's implied. **

* * *

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" John ran into the living room to see a lethargic looking Sherlock slouching in his chair.

"Bored." Sherlock croaked out in his low baritone voice.

"What?"

"Bored!" Sherlock croaked louder this time, opening his eyes wide and standing up. He shot the wall next to him. "Bored." He put his arm around his back and shot the wall again. "Bored!"

Seemingly satisfied, he handed the gun to John. John began unloading the gun as Sherlock stalked back towards the couch.

"I don't know what's gotten into the criminal class. Good job I'm not one of them. Well.."

John tilted his head a bit back before replying, "So you take it out on the wall?"

"The wall had it coming." Sherlock said as he stroked the wall where he had just shot it before sighing and falling onto the couch with an angsty manner that resembled that of a sulking teenager.

"How about that Russian case?" John suggested as he hung his coat up, remembering exactly what Sherlock did when he was bored and wanting to prevent it all costs.

"Belarus. Open and shot domestic murder. Not worth my time."

"Ah shame." John said in mock sympathy in a condescending tone. He walked into the kitchen and looked at the table. There was practically a whole entire chemistry lab on top of the dining table. John rose his hands in exasperation.

"Anything in? I'm starving." John questioned before opening the fridge.

"Oh F-"John groaned out at sight of what was in the fridge. He closed it again and waited a few moments before opening it again. Inside of the fridge was a human head. "There's a head." John remarked to himself in disbelief.

"A severed head." John called out to Sherlock with a hint of questioning.

"Just tea for me thanks." Sherlock said in an attempt at humor.

"There's a head in the fridge." John said as he began walking back into the living room.

"Yes?" Sherlock said in confusion.

"A bloody head!"

"Where else was I supposed to put it? You don't mind do you?"

John sighed as Sherlock continued, "Got it from Bart's Morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death. See you have written up the taxi driver case."

John found himself slightly relieved when Sherlock told him he got it at the morgue having not talked about the fact that Sherlock was a serial killer at all since Sherlock propositioned him, and therefore felt left out in the dark.

"Yes."

"A Study in Pink? Nice."

"Well you know, pink lady, pink case, pink phone… There was a lot of pink. Did you like it?"

"Uhm… No." Sherlock said as he began reading the newspaper.

John, now sitting in the chair stared at Sherlock in confusion. "Why not? I thought you'd be flattered…"

"Flattered? 'Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds, what's incredible though is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things.'"

John rose out his hand in defense, "Now hang on there a minute. I didn't mean that in a –"

"Oh! You meant spectacularly ignorant in a nice way. Look, it doesn't matter to me who's prime minister or who's sleeping with who."

"Or that the earth goes around the sun." John interrupted.

"Oh god that again. It's not important!"

"Not important? Its primary school stuff. How can you not know that?" John questioned, his voice getting louder progressively.

"If I ever did, I deleted it." Sherlock said off-handedly.

"Deleted it?"

Sherlock breathed in and sat up. "Listen, this is my hard drive and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful. _Really useful._ Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish and that makes it harder to get to the stuff that matters. Do you see?"

"But it's the solar system!" John shouted causing Sherlock to groan and rub his forehead.

Sherlock rested his elbows on his knees and ruffled his hair, "Oh hell! What does that matter! So we go around the sun or we went around moon or _round and round the garden like a teddy bear _it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work, without that my brain rots." Sherlock looked up and stared intensely at John. "Put that in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world." Sherlock shoved the book in front of him and laid back on the couch, his back towards John.

John nodded to himself and stood up, Sherlock turned around and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. I need some air."

* * *

Once Mycroft left John sat down and looked at Sherlock.

"Why'd you lie? You've got nothing on. Not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding, and hopefully that's it… Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"

Sherlock, scratching the side of his head with his violin bow shrugged, "John, your futile attempts to get me to talk about my serial killings are rather pitiful and I would much prefer if you would just bluntly say what you thought and in regards to my brother well, why shouldn't I?"

John made an 'o' shape with his mouth and nodded. "Nice. Sibling rivalry, now we're getting somewhere." He avoided the first part of Sherlock's statement, unsure as to exactly what he was thinking and feeling, himself.

Just as John finished, Sherlock's phone rang. Taking it out of his suit pocket he brought it to his face.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Of course. How could I refuse?" Sherlock stood up and looked towards John.

"Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?"

"If you want me to of course."

"I would be lost without my blogger."

And with that they descended to Scotland Yard.

* * *

**So everything here seems just as they are in the show, but let's just wait for the plot twist to the rest in the next chapter. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for such a long wait, I am back and here is the 6****th**** chapter. Enjoy the new twist. Sorry once again that almost most of this was identical to the episode until the end, had to set the scene and all you know? **

* * *

"You like the funny cases don't you?The surprising ones." Lestrade said as Sherlock and John tailed behind him.

"'Obviously."

"You're gonna love this. The explosion."

"Gas leak yes?" Sherlock questioned.

"No."

"No?" Sherlock repeated in slight disbelief.

"No, made to look like one."

"What?" John finally cut in.

"Not a thing left in the place 'cept a strong box. A very strong box, and inside of it is this." Lestrade held out a white envelope to Sherlock. Sherlock looked at it before looking back up at him.

"You haven't opened it."

"It's addressed to you isn't it?" John asked.

"We've x-rayed it, it's not booby-trapped."

"How reassuring." Sherlock said in his deadpan.

Sherlock looked down at the envelope and brought it up to a lamp. He looked at the loopy and feminine handwriting scrawled out to spell '_Sherlock Holmes'. _

"Nice stationary. Bohemian." He remarked to mainly himself.

"What?" Lestrade asked but received no answer.

"From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?"

"Nah."

"She used a fountain pen-" As Sherlock described the pen John straightened his brows in confusion.

"She?"  
"Obviously." Sherlock said without looking at John.

"Obviously." John repeated in exasperation.

Sherlock brought the letter back up to the light again and began to cut it open. Once he finished his leather gloved fingers began to pull out what was inside. Inside was an iPhone with a pink case.

"That's- That's the phone… the pink phone." John stuttered out.

"What from the Study in Pink?" Lestrade responded.

"Well obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like-"Sherlock stopped himself and turned around to face the D.I. "The Study in Pink? You read his blog?"

"Course I read his blog. We all do. Do you _really _not know that the earth goes around the sun?"

Just as Greg said this Sally Donovan who was momentarily in the room made a noise that sounded like 'pft' in amusement. Sherlock waited for her to leave before continuing.

"This isn't the same phone. This one is brand new. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone… Which means _your blog _has a far wider readership."

* * *

Sherlock pressed a button on the phone and an electronic voice rung out.

_"You have 1 new message." *beep beep beep beep beeeeep*_

Then they were meant with silence. "Is that it?" John asked, confused as to what that would mean.

"Not that's not it." As if on cue the phone received a photo. The photo was of a room. The room was completely empty, save the mirror in the corner and fireplace in the center. The wallpaper was fading and covered only half the wall. Lestrade and John crowded behind Sherlock and looked at it with him.

"Well what the hell are we supposed to make of that? The staged photo and the bloody pips." Lestrade muttered out.

"It's a warning." Sherlock whisped out finally realizing what was going on.

"A warning?" John looked at Sherlock waiting for an explanation.

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's going to happen again. I've seen this place before…"

Sherlock began walking out and John followed him, "Hang on, what's gonna happen again?"

Sherlock kept walking but turned around and made an exploding hand gesture at John, "Boom."

Sherlock walked into Baker St. and called for Ms. Hudson to bring him the key to 221C. As he opened the door he was greeted with exactly what he expected the same room, but there was one thing that was different. Right at the center of the room were shoes. Sherlock crouched down so he was eye level with the shoes, and just as he was about to look the pink phone rang. Something about these shoes were familiar to Sherlock but he couldn't quite place it.

Sherlock answered the phone and put it on speaker then muttered out a Hello. Slowly a jagged and choked breathe came out and a woman's voice began to speak. "H-hello… Sexy..."

"Who is this?"

"I sent you a-a little puzzle just to say h-hi…"

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

"I- I'm not crying I'm typing…and this stupid bitch is r-reading it out." The woman's voice cracked and she began to sob.

"The curtain rises." Sherlock muttered barely audible to anyone but himself.

"What?" John asked, hearing it, just barely.

"Nothing."

"No, what did you mean?"

"I've been expecting this for some time."

"12 hours to solve my puzzle, S-Sherlock or I'm going to be…s-so naught." The woman's shaky voice finished before hanging up.

Afterwards Sherlock went to the lab and began searching, he tested and observed the shoes looking for a new clue. John came in and so did Molly, with a new character behind, Jim. He wasn't worth Sherlock's time though so he continued to work. He made Molly upset and she ran out leaving John and him alone. Just as Sherlock was in the middle of explaining his observations on the shoes they found he stopped. John looked at him and saw a realization fall over Sherlock. Similar to those John observed at the crime scenes yet different… almost innocent realization. "Oh." Was all that Sherlock muttered out. John waited for an explanation as Sherlock let out another whisper to himself.

"Carl Powers."

"Sorry who?"

"Carl Powers, John."

"What is it?"

"It's where I began." Sherlock rasped out once more. He didn't say another thing until they were in the cab.

"1989, young kid, champion swimmer came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament. Drowned in the pool, tragic accident. You wouldn't remember it, why should you?"

"But you remember?"

"Yes."

"Something fishy about it?"

"Nobody thought so. Nobody except me. I was only a kid myself, I read about it in the papers."

"Started young didn't you?" John wasn't just talking about the crime solving, he remembered that Sherlock said that he was 19 when he first started to kill. He couldn't help but think about it because no matter how normal they felt it was like an elephant standing in the room.

"Boy. Carl Powers had some kind of fit in the water but, by the time they got him out it was too late. There was… something wrong, something I couldn't get out of my head."

"What?"

"His shoes."

"What about them?"

"They weren't there. I made a fuss, I tried to get the police interested but nobody seemed to think it was important…" Sherlock took a pause and turned towards John. "He left all the rest of his clothes in his locker but there was no sign of him or his shoes…" Sherlock bent down and picked up a newspaper.

"Until now."

Sherlock had found out that Carl Powers was poisoned and posted it on his blog. He had beat the bomber's first game and waited until the familiar ring came out and echoed in 221 B.

Sherlock put the call on speaker. The woman from before began to speak in the same shaky matter.

"Well done…you. Come and get me."

"Where are you? Tell us where you are."

With the first test passed Sherlock went straight onto the next. As they looked at the next picture of a car Sally Donovan came in and held out a phone.

"Freak it's for you."

* * *

Sherlock took the phone, "Hello?"

"It's okay… that you have gone to the police." A shaky man's voice spoke this time.

"Who is this? Is this you again?"

"Don't rely on them… you'll find that to be t-the last thing you want v-very soon… Clever you. Guessing about Carl Powers… I never liked him. Carl laughed at me…so I stopped him laughing…"

"You've stolen another voice I presume?"

"This is about you and me. I showed you my first, so let's see yours."

Sherlock's face flushed and turned white as he tried to understand what the bomber meant. His first what? _'You'll find that to be t-the last thing you want v-very soon… Carl Powers was his first…murder? But then… No, he couldn't possibly know…' _Sherlock tried his best to appear normal as he continued the conversation.

"Who are you? What is that sound?"

"The sound of life…S-sherlock. But don't worry… I can fix that. You solved my last puzzle in 9 hours … this time you have 8." The victim hung up.

* * *

Sherlock didn't know just how dangerous Moriarty was or how much he knew but he had to be stopped.


End file.
